


Gilligan's Secret

by amythis



Category: Gilligan's Island
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-22 20:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6093760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythis/pseuds/amythis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After three years on the island, Gilligan considers revealing her secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

VIOLA: What country, friends, is this?

CAPTAIN: This is Illyria, lady.

VIOLA: And what should I do in Illyria?  
My brother he is in Elysium.  
Perchance he is not drown'd: what think you, sailors?

CAPTAIN: It is perchance that you yourself were saved.

VIOLA: O my poor brother! and so perchance may he be.

Enough is enough. It's time to reveal my secret.

It starts with two shipwrecks. The first was when my older brother invited me to go sailing with him to Hawaii. My parents were concerned since I was so young, but he is a good sailor. In fact, he'd just gotten out of the Navy after two years.

I begged and pleaded and they finally gave in. I wonder if they would've said yes sooner if I were a boy. Yes, that's my secret: I'm really a girl, even if I don't look like one, especially back then.

At sixteen, I looked like Big Ethel in the Archie comics, only with much better teeth. I was tall and skinny with no curves. In fact, I looked a lot like my brother, but with my black hair in a bouffant. Papa called us twins, although Willy was four years older. And Mama would reassure me that she was a late bloomer, too, until college. Well, my name is Lily but I didn't seem to be blossoming.

School was out for the summer and I dreaded going to the beach when I still couldn't fill out a bikini. Spending a month with my favorite person, two weeks each way to and from Honolulu, sounded like a wonderful alternative.

Willy and I were a lot alike. Neither of us did well in school, although we could tell you anything you wanted to know about comic books or movies. We were both shy, especially with the opposite sex, but we could be talkative when we were comfortable with someone. There were times on the sailboat when we talked for hours, although we could also be comfortable not talking for hours.

The first part of our voyage from Los Angeles was great, very relaxing. But when we approached Oahu, there was a storm. I fell overboard! Willy tried to throw me the life preserver, but instead he accidentally threw a suitcase. Luckily, it could float. But the tide swept me and the suitcase away from the boat and towards the shore.

It was a quiet, uninhabited part of the island. I couldn't go for help, but I did find a clump of palm trees to shelter me until the storm died down.

When the sky cleared, I tried to catch sight of the boat and/or Willy, but the waves were now calm and empty. I was a girl alone in an unfamiliar place.

I hadn't yet read Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night." Maybe it would've been taught in my junior or senior year of high school. I read the Professor's copy in what would've been my freshman year of college. But I'll get to that. The thing is, there were parallels to my situation and Viola's. We were both worried about what could happen to a young, unprotected girl in an unfamiliar place. And we came up with the same solution: the disguise of a brother. (She and Sebastian were actually twins, but I don't know how old.)

When I opened the suitcase, it turned out to be Willy's, not mine. There were his red shirts and white bellbottom jeans. There was even his wallet! I didn't originally plan to steal his identity. I just wanted dry clothes to change into. But when I felt how well his clothes fit, and I caught my reflection in the water, I realized that I could pass as him.

I didn't plan to do it for very long. Just till I could contact my parents. I knew I would have to find a road and hitchhike to the nearest town. It would be safer to do that as a young man.

There was a first aid kit in the suitcase as well, and I used the scissors to cut my hair into as close to Willy's style as I could. I didn't do a great job of it, but I found one of his white hats in the suitcase, too, so that covered up some of the hair.

I hesitated and then decided that if I really wanted to look convincing, I'd better stuff a rolled up pair of socks in the crotch of Willy's bellbottoms. Nothing too obvious, just enough to keep it from looking suspiciously flat.

I stowed my own clothes in the suitcase for the time being. Then I set out to find the road.

It turned out I was at the south end of the island, not far from Interstate H-1. I walked along the road, with my thumb out, trying not to think about how shocked my parents would be if they knew I was hitchhiking. But what choice did I have? I had no way of knowing if Willy would come back for me or if I'd ever see him again.

The middle-aged couple who picked me up scolded me for hitchhiking anyway. "Terrible things can happen to a young boy on his own," they warned. But I still felt safer than if I looked like a girl. Not that these people were threatening, but what if I hadn't been that lucky?

They agreed to take me to Honolulu. It was only half an hour away. I answered their questions as if I was Willy, although of course I made no mention of sailing with my "sister."

When the couple dropped me off, with a few more warnings, I started looking for a phone booth. I would have to call my parents collect. Willy's wallet had some money in it (my purse was in my own suitcase), but I couldn't pay for a long-distance call on a pay phone. I wondered if I should report the shipwreck to the police, but I wanted the reassurance of my parents' voices before I planned my next move.

Should I stay in Honolulu in hopes that Willy would turn up? Where would I stay? And how would I pay for it? Maybe my parents would wire me some money. Or they could mail me a plane ticket. Or maybe they'd show up and drag me home themselves. I was sure that after what had happened, they'd never let me leave the house again, except to go to school.

Suddenly, I wasn't so sure about calling them, at least not first thing. After all, I had no idea what had happened to Willy. Maybe he'd been able to sail to Honolulu despite the storm and he was or soon would be looking for me. Our parents didn't expect to hear from us for another two weeks, until we'd come home. We didn't want to call because of the expense, although we'd said we might send them a postcard. Why not just wait until I heard from Willy? And if I heard nothing in the next two weeks, then I'd tell my parents.

So what should I do in the meantime? Tell the police and see if they could find a place for me to stay safely and cheaply? No, they'd contact my parents, especially since I was a minor. I wanted to give Willy time to show up. Maybe not a couple weeks, but maybe a couple days? So that still left the problem of what to do while I waited and where to stay.

In the back of my mind, I was afraid that Willy hadn't survived the storm. I didn't want to believe it, but it was a possibility. But, awful as the thought was, wouldn't his body be found? That might take time, too.

I decided to hope that he had survived and would show up soon. And in the meantime, I'd survive as well as I could in this unfamiliar, tropical city.

But that was before I heard a deep voice yell out, "Gilligan! Is that you?"


	2. Chapter 2

ANTONIO: Will you deny me now?  
Is't possible that my deserts to you  
Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery,  
Lest that it make me so unsound a man  
As to upbraid you with those kindnesses  
That I have done for you.

VIOLA: I know of none;  
Nor know I you by voice or any feature….

I turned and saw a large man, both tall and fat, wearing a captain’s hat and a blue shirt. I was sure I’d never met him before and yet there was something familiar about him. And he’d called me “Gilligan.” True, no one called me that except for one teacher who called all the students by their last names.

“Yes, Sir?” I said, still trying, as I had with the couple who’d given me a lift, to speak in as deep a voice as I could. (Willy’s luckily wasn’t very deep, and it even still cracked sometimes, although he was now in his twenties.)

“Gilligan, don’t you know me? It’s the Skipper!”

And then I realized who he was. This was Willy’s Navy buddy, Captain Jonas Grumby. They were good friends and Willy had even saved “the Skipper’s” life, although he was modest about it when he told the family about it. I’d even seen a picture of the Skipper once, which was why he looked familiar.

“Skipper?” I repeated.

“Little Buddy, are you feeling OK?”

I put my hand to my head. “I, I had a little accident.”

He chuckled. “As clumsy as ever. Did you get a bump on the head? Let me take a look at it.”

He reached for Willy’s cap but I stepped back. I didn’t want him to see the bad haircut I’d given myself. “No, I’m all right. I just feel a little dizzy.”

“Let me get you home so you can rest.”

“Home?” Was he going to send me back to Los Angeles?

“Yeah, I don’t live far from here. I’ve got a nice little bungalow, near the docks.”

“Oh?”

“We’ve got a lot to catch up on, Little Buddy.”

He led me to his car and along the way he told me how he’d retired from the Navy and used his pension to buy a little ship. He’d just recently started giving three-hour tours of the area.

“And what have you been up to, Gilligan?”

“Me? Oh, well, I went back home to visit my family.”

“In L.A.?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you moving back?”

“I, uh, I haven’t made any plans.” This was true. Willy had told us that he just wanted some time to think about his future, which was one reason he wanted to go sailing for a month. And since I’m a good listener, he knew he could talk to me about it. He hadn’t decided on anything though, before the shipwreck.

“How’d you like to come into business with me?”

“Giving tours?”

“Yeah, I could use a first mate.”

“Gee, Skipper, I don’t know.”

“Well, why don’t you try it for a couple weeks and see what you think?”

“Uh, OK.”

I couldn’t think of how to say no, or any reason to. If and when Willy showed up, then I could explain to the Skipper why I’d lied to him. In the meantime, I’d earn some money and maybe have a place to stay.

What I didn’t count on was that the Skipper expected me to stay with him, in the same bedroom! He liked to sleep in a hammock, and he strung one up above his. I knew I should’ve said something then, but I was afraid to. Maybe I would’ve if it didn’t turn out that the Skipper liked to sleep in his clothes and expected me to, shoes and all.

He said, “It may seem kind of nutty but I figure if there’s an emergency at night, like a flood or fire, then we can be out the door in seconds.”

We never saw each other naked. It was completely innocent, although I don’t know if my parents or anyone would believe me. Willy probably would.

This didn’t go on for very long, barely a week. I kept an eye and an ear out for Willy, but there was no sign of him. As each day passed, the more I knew that I could never tell the Skipper who I was until and unless Willy showed up. And with each day, I started to lose hope of seeing my brother again.

Sometimes the Skipper would want to reminisce and I’d do my best to fake it. Luckily, Willy apparently had a reputation as being a little scatter-brained, and of course there was my “head injury” to blame.

Then there was the day another storm hit, although there was no mention of it in the weather forecast. We had five passengers and it started out as a lovely summer’s day. Then it turned into a nightmare.

I’d picked up some knowledge of boats from Willy, and I was learning as quickly as I could from the Skipper, but nothing had prepared me for this. I just tried not to fall overboard again.

We landed on an uncharted tropical island. Our ship, "The Minnow," was damaged beyond repair. So we’d have to find other methods of escape.

The first thing we tried was a raft. Of course the Skipper and I were the ones to “man” it. Three days out there, hiding who I was (I peed when he was asleep), waiting to be discovered in more than one sense. 

It was almost a relief when a shark destroyed the raft and we had to swim to safety.

When we found out that the seven of us weren’t alone on the island, it was a big shock, especially the first time it happened. “Wrongway” Feldman, the famous pilot, had been living here for years. It turned out he was now afraid to fly, so he trained me to pilot his old propeller plane. But the plane took off with him instead of me. He came back later because he hated civilization, and he’s now probably happily living on some island with natives.

We’ve had a lot of people visit our island in the past three years, but for one reason or another, none of them ever tell the folks back home about us. Sometimes we’ll hear news reports of their returns and they never say, “Oh, by the way, here are the coordinates of the island of the seven people who fed and sheltered and befriended me.” Well, at least the Mosquitoes, my favorite rock group, left us their album when they left us, although they didn’t bother to autograph it.

And all this time, I’ve never let on about my true identity, to the visitors or the other castaways. The six of them treat me like a man, well, a boy, since I act like Willy did when he was sixteen, only more innocent and naïve. So sometimes they see me as a kid, and other times they treat me as an adult. The Skipper thinks of me as his successor sometimes, training me to run things if anything bad ever happens to him. But the others don’t take me very seriously, with the exception of Mary Ann. (I’ll get to her. That’s a whole other story.) Even when I was elected president of the island, no one would listen to me.

On the other hand, the three men treat me like one of them. They make me work as hard as a man, and the Skipper will hit me with his cap if I annoy him, which I’m sure he’d never do if he knew I’m a girl. Mr. Howell treats me like his houseboy, but then he’d probably treat me like a maid if he knew.

Sometimes the men keep secrets from the women, like the time the Professor thought the island was sinking. Once the women got so mad at “us,” they moved to the other side of the island. It’s really weird for me to be on “the men’s side,” but it’s not like I’m not in the habit of keeping secrets anyway.

And the women sometimes treat me like a man and sometimes like a boy, but, well, that’s definitely another story.


	3. Chapter 3

VIOLA: How will this fadge? my master loves her dearly;  
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;  
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.  
What will become of this? As I am man,  
My state is desperate for my master's love;  
As I am woman,—now alas the day!—  
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe!  
O time! thou must untangle this, not I;  
It is too hard a knot for me to untie!

Sometimes I think Viola had it easy. She was only in a triangle. Although I was plain as a girl, apparently I’m irresistibly cute as a boy. Which is funny, because I never had the impression that my brother was a hit with the ladies, although it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing he’d tell his family of course. But I never remember any of my friends telling me they had crushes on Willy, and he didn’t date much in high school.

There are three women on the island, not counting me of course. The oldest is Mrs. Howell, one of the richest women in the world, but she’s very sweet and she treats me like her son. In fact, the Howells temporarily adopted me. They referred to me as G. Thurston Howell IV and I didn’t correct them. I mean, I am “Gilligan” as much as Willy is, right? And it seemed so minor compared to, you know, not being able to be anybody’s son.

Another woman is Ginger Grant, the movie star! I’ve seen all her movies, so you can imagine what a thrill it was for me to meet her. The problem is, she’s very flirtatious and, especially at first, she liked to flirt with me. I think acting like a shy boy actually attracted her, instead of scaring her off, like it seemed to do with the pretty, popular girls in Willy’s high school class. Ginger sees me as a challenge. Yeah, more than she knows.

At first, I tried backing away, even knocking myself out on palm trees and hut posts. It hurt and it only worked temporarily. Then I tried not letting it get to me as much. Yeah, I could’ve told her no, but who would’ve believed me? I seem to be an ordinary guy and she’s a gorgeous, glamorous movie star.

Plus, this is embarrassing to admit, but she’s a really good kisser. Yeah, I know, we’re two girls kissing, but she doesn’t know that. There’ve been times I’ve just let her kiss me, enjoying it, but I’m always afraid it won’t stop with kissing.

And then there’s Mary Ann Summers. She’s not much older than I am, a year younger than Willy. She’s very sweet and thinks I am, too. In fact, the Skipper once told me that Mary Ann said I’m the sweetest, gentlest boy she’s ever met. I try to act more manly sometimes, but I guess my “girlish” side shows through in some ways. Mary Ann kisses me sometimes, too, and she’s just as good a kisser as Ginger.

And again, I’d sit back and enjoy it but I’m worried about what it might lead to. Kissing a girl isn’t much different from kissing a boy (not that I’ve kissed many boys), but heavy petting would be. And even though they’re both beautiful girls, I’m not interested in their bodies. I’m worried they might be interested in mine, or what they think mine is. What if one of the girls wanted me to take off my clothes? I still sleep in my clothes and even bathe in them, so no one has ever caught me undressed.

Well, I should be more accurate. I have been topless, usually when I’m dressed as a native. (Including for a movie we all made that won a prize at Cannes but still didn’t get us rescued.) I save my hair from haircuts, telling Mary Ann (it’s usually her that cuts it for me) that I’m going to use the hair for pillow stuffing. But I actually glue it on when I need to show a hairy chest.

But I haven’t done this much lately, because in the last year my breasts have started to grow. They’re still pretty small and I’m able to bind them down, but if they get as big as Mama’s, I don’t know what I’ll do. Which is one of the reasons I want to reveal my secret.

Living as a man isn’t easy. For one thing, I also started getting my period about a year ago (at the advanced age of eighteen), and it’s difficult to keep that a secret. So far it’s irregular, but what will I do when it comes every month?

The other thing is, well, I have a crush on “the Professor.” That’s what we call Roy Hinkley, the smartest man I ever met, and maybe the handsomest. He thinks I’m a not too bright, very clumsy boy, although some of my clumsiness comes from trying to hide my nervousness around him. And yet, he can be very patient with me, far more patient than the Skipper is. (The Skipper treats me like his son, loving me and getting exasperated with me.) The Professor has taught me a lot, including Shakespeare. He helped me when I played Hamlet (the indecisiveness was easy), and he told me to read "Twelfth Night" because there was a shipwreck in that. And he explains complicated scientific experiments as if I could possibly understand them.

Ginger likes him, too, but he’s very aloof with her. Except sometimes she can get him to really kiss back. (That might’ve been the scene that helped our movie win at Cannes.)

So, yeah, Ginger and Mary Ann like me, and Ginger also likes the Professor, and the Skipper has a crush on Ginger, and I like the Professor but I enjoy kissing the girls, although I try to resist them, because it makes me uncomfortable for a lot of reasons. And that’s just with the five of us. (The Howells are happily married.)

There are also the natives. Once a native girl wanted to marry me! And another one became my slave. Worst of all though is what happened last week. King Killiwanni promised to rescue us all if we would offer his tribe a “white goddess.” All three girls were honored at the offer, but then they found out that the “goddess” would be sacrificed to the volcano.

So the three men decided that one of them would dress as a woman in order to save our three women. But they weren’t very convincing, so I got drafted. Yeah, I was a girl pretending to be a boy who now had to pretend to be “Gillianna.”

It gets worse. King Killiwanni fell for me, although I think I was even homelier as Gillianna than I was as Lily. He was coming on really strong, and I was afraid that both my secret identities would be revealed.

I got him to close his eyes, then I took off the Gillianna clothes and wig, making him think that I’d disappeared by magic. That scared all the natives off.

But enough is enough. I’ve been thinking about this all week and I can’t do this anymore. So I took my diary and have been writing all these thoughts down in a quiet spot in the jungle. (The others know I keep a diary, and they’ve even read some of it, but I’m always careful to not give away that I’m a girl. I think about myself as a boy so much that I’m even male in some of my dreams. Only less shy, and more confident, than I am as my brother.)

I need to tell them all. But how? All at once? Or should I confide in one person and see how he or she reacts? And do I just say I’m a girl? Why should they believe me after all this time?

I get a funny picture in my head of stripping down, to the waist or maybe even below the waist, in front of the six of them. I could stand up at the end of dinner tonight and, by the light of the tiki torches, say, “I have something important to tell you.” And then I’d take off Willy’s red shirt and unbind my breasts. Then maybe I’d even take off his bellbottoms, or at least pull out the rolled-up socks.

Mrs. Howell would clutch her pearls and maybe swoon into Mr. Howell’s arms. The others would just stare at me. And then what? Would they treat me as a freak of nature? Or a liar? After all, I’ve pretended to be something I’m not. I’ve betrayed their trust. I don’t think they’d understand that the Gilligan they know is not entirely a lie, that I’ve put some of myself into this role, far more challenging than any part Miss Grant ever played.

Sometimes I think I should just go live on the other side of the island, or in a cave. I’ve done it a few times, being melodramatic in my teenaged girl way, leaving notes that I’d never see them again, but always so glad when they’d come after me. This is my family. How can I hurt them?

Well, I hurt my real family. I never contacted my parents. They probably think from the radio reports that Willy moved to Honolulu and then died in the wreck of "The Minnow." And their daughter Lily? Did she die, too, or did she run away?

Maybe I’ll hide a little longer. Wait till puberty makes more of its slow changes with me. Or maybe we’ll get rescued and I can resume my life as Lily.

Now I hear someone gasping, “Gilligan!” and I look up to see Mary Ann fainting. I’d better hide this diary and help her.


	4. Chapter 4

ANTONIO: How have you made division of yourself?  
An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin  
Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?

OLIVIA: Most wonderful!

SEBASTIAN: Do I stand there? I never had a brother;  
Nor can there be that deity in my nature,  
Of here and everywhere. I had a sister,  
Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd.  
Of charity, what kin are you to me?  
What countryman? what name? what parentage?

What an evening this has been! I’ll try to tell it in order.

I went over to Mary Ann and revived her.

“Gilligan?” she whispered.

“Yeah, Mary Ann, it’s me.”

“But how is this possible?”

“How is what possible?”

“I was just talking to you. You didn’t recognize me or anyone except the Skipper.”

My first thought was that the Russian spy who looks like me had returned. His government gave him plastic surgery so he could impersonate me and find out more about this island. When I first saw him, I had a moment of thinking it was Willy, somehow come to our island. But I soon found out who he was, or at least that he wasn’t American.

This couldn’t be him now though, because the spy had pretended he knew all of us. Could it be, was it really—?

“Mary Ann, where was this other me?”

“Other you? You mean—”

“Mary Ann, where were you talking to him?”

“Down at the lagoon. He washed ashore with just a surfboard, like Duke Williams a couple years ago.”

I remembered that, and how I’d pretended that Mary Ann was my girlfriend to make Duke jealous and want to leave the island. It was the first time that Mary Ann and I had kissed, although Ginger had kissed me a few times by then. I had to act extra innocent, but that only made Mary Ann want to teach me. I remember the Skipper would sometimes offer to teach me, in a fatherly way I mean, about “the birds and the bees,” but I understandably avoided that. Better for everyone to think of me as an innocent boy, young for my age. Even when Mrs. Howell tried to matchmake me and Mary Ann, I did my best to pretend I didn’t know what was going on.

Mary Ann hadn’t given up on me though. Once, when the Skipper wanted to practice the marriage ceremony so the Howells could renew their vows, guess what couple he wanted to practice on? Mary Ann was a lot more eager to “rehearse” than I was.

“A surfboard? The lagoon?” Willy never knew how to surf, but then it had been three years, so he’d had time to learn.

“Yes, but now he’s at the dinner table. I told you, I mean him, that I’m going to bake his favorite pie to bring back his memory. I was going to gather ingredients.”

“The pie can wait,” I said, surprising her, since she knows how I love her pies. Well, she was going to have to get used to my surprising her. I grabbed her hand and said, “Come on.”

We ran back to the clearing, where the other five were trying to jog their friend’s memory, unaware that this was a stranger. Well, to them, not to me.

“Willy!” I cried out in my own voice, one I hadn’t used in so long. (Even when I talked to myself, I never relaxed enough to speak as a girl.)

They all turned and stared at me. Then the newcomer said, “Is that you? Or is it me?”

I realized then that I had never sounded quite like my brother, although it had been close enough to fool the Skipper.

“Two Gilligans!” Ginger gasped, looking back and forth between us.

“Thurston, my smelling salts!” cried Mrs. Howell, although she was not yet swooning.

“By George!” Mr. Howell shouted, not making a move to help his wife.

“Little Buddy, what’s going on?” the Skipper asked of my brother and then me.

I hesitated and then I let go of Mary Ann’s hand. I peeled off the red shirt that I had borrowed from my brother three years before. I handed it to him, saying, “I have some other things of yours I need to return.”

He was wearing only swimming trunks, so he put the shirt on. He smiled and said, “I think you can keep the bellbottoms for the moment.”

I laughed and then I became serious again. I unwrapped the bandage that bound my chest. I exposed my breasts to my friends, who looked shocked of course.

Then my brother took his shirt off and handed it back to me. “On second thought, Sis, I think you need this more than I do right now.”

“Thank you, Willy.”

“No problem, Lily.”

After that, I explained and apologized. I won’t say that the others immediately accepted it, but after it sunk in a little, the Skipper said, “Well, you’re still my Little Buddy.”

“Perhaps she is, but she can’t stay in your hut anymore.”

I didn’t explain to Mrs. Howell that there was nothing improper in my relationship with the Skipper, even now. I knew that he would see me differently, especially with the “real Gilligan” around.

And how did my brother end up on our island? Well, he hit his head during the storm where we were separated, and he and his sailboat were found by a group of surfers who lived in Hawaii. They adopted him as one of their own. He had no memory of his past life, and no identification. (My purse just had money and I didn’t have a driver’s license or any other ID yet. They all wondered about the suitcase full of girls’ clothes, but he didn’t remember traveling with anyone.)

The surfers were nomadic drop-outs and didn’t really follow the news. If they heard reports of The Minnow being lost, they probably didn’t make any connection to their mysterious new friend.

One day while surfing, Will (as he wants me to call him now that he’s a man of 23) was lost at sea and he hit his head. His memory came back when he saw the Skipper looking down on him with concern, but he had no idea where he was of course.

We found all this out later, after the shock of my revelation had worn off some and we could talk of other matters. And, yes, Mary Ann made two pies, for “both Gilligans.”

My brother was of course welcomed as part of the family, and I wasn’t kicked out. He’s moved into the hut with the Skipper while I, well, that’s where it gets complicated.

There was a time when the Skipper was allergic to me and I had to find a new place to sleep. So I bunked with the girls, a curtain dividing the room. They turned out to be allergic, too. (Well, it was to my hair oil, I later found out.) I don’t know what we’d have done if we’d needed a more permanent arrangement.

Well, now we need a more permanent arrangement. Do I stay with the girls as one of them? Or will they feel too strange about that, having treated me as male all this time? After all, I’ve kissed both of them, even if it was never my idea.

I guess I could stay with the Howells, but they feel funny about me being, as Mr. Howell put it, “The South Pacific’s answer to Christine Jorgensen.” Even if I’ve never really changed my sex, just pretended to have a different one than I really do.

Then an hour ago, the Professor asked to speak to me in his hut. So I went and he said, “So, Gilligan—may I still call you that?”

“Of course, Professor, although I guess it’ll get confusing when my brother’s around.”

“Yes, your brother. This is really remarkable, the resemblance.”

“Yeah, it is,” I said, although I think Will and I look much less alike than we did three years ago, not just because I’m developing but also because he’s now tan and a bit muscular, though still tall and thin, taller than I am.

“I always thought that there must be a strong one, for you to carry off the charade so convincingly.”

I stared at him.

He chuckled. “I thought when I suggested you read 'Twelfth Night' that you would realize that I knew. But when you continued to pose as a man, I thought either you didn’t trust me enough to reveal your secret, which I understand of course, or you didn’t make the connection between Shakespeare and your own life.”

I didn’t point out that Orsino hadn’t had a clue about “Cesario” until the end. “I, I didn’t know you knew. How did you know?”

“I sensed early on that you weren’t who or what you seemed. And yet you had such a plausible backstory, including an ID, I couldn’t figure out the exact truth. Then it occurred to me that you must be posing as a close relative, probably a brother.”

“But how did you know I was a girl? Did any of the others know?”

“I highly doubt it. It wasn’t that you were effeminate. You weren’t terribly masculine, but you were more boyish than girlish. Then one day I thought of it as an explanation for some of your behavior, and once I saw that, I couldn’t unsee it.”

“My behavior?”

“Like how frightened you were of the girls. And certain looks you gave me.”

I blushed girlishly. “You knew that, too?”

“Don’t worry, it was very subtle, and I doubt I would’ve been sensitive to it if I weren’t looking for an explanation. But I had no definite proof, until you revealed all.”

I blushed even more. “I can’t believe I showed myself like that. Not that I have much to show.”

“You have lovely breasts and you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

That didn’t make me blush any less. And then he kissed me! Well, considering we’ve both had kissing lessons from Ginger, you can imagine what a great kiss that was.

When it was over, and I got my breath back, I asked, “Is this what you wanted to see me about, Professor?”

“That and to ask you to marry me.”

I stared at him again. “What?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not very good at proposing.”

“You want to marry me?”

“Is that so strange?”

Well, of course it was strange. He’d been treating me like a young man for three years! On the other hand, it’s not like he didn’t know me.

“Can I have time to think about this?”

“Of course. And I understand that you’ll need to adjust to your new, or rather your old, life. As well as get reacquainted with your brother.”

“And get a new wardrobe,” I said, looking down at the red shirt and white bellbottoms.

“The girls can help with that.”

“True,” I said, trying not to think how strange that would be, maybe getting their hand-me-down skirts and bras.

“I don’t think either of us is going anywhere anytime soon.”

Well, that was true. Of course, I can’t begin to imagine how the others will react when they find out the Professor proposed to me, especially if I say yes. Do I want to? Oh, I don’t know, I’m so confused right now.

“I think I need to talk to my brother.”

“Of course. But I’m sure he’ll be happy for you.”

I smiled. “Yeah, probably.” Will is pretty easy-going. He at least will be on my side, whatever that side is.

I kissed the Professor on the cheek and then we said goodnight. I went out to the clearing, wondering where I was going to sleep tonight—with my fiancé? Mrs. Howell would never approve of that!—and what life would be like on the island with all these changes.

I found my brother, but he was kissing Mary Ann, so I decided to write down everything that happened after Mary Ann fainted, find a tree, and sleep in it. I can deal with everything better in the morning.

THE END


End file.
